Ashley
Christmas at my dad's house always filled me with a mixture of comfort and unease, comfort from being with him, unease from everything else.
"Ashley, darling, come help me with these appetizers," my stepmom's voice called from the kitchen, that too-sweet tone she reserved for when others were present.
I reluctantly pulled myself away from the window, smoothing down the red silk dress I'd chosen for the evening. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself I was here for Dad. Just get through tonight, I repeated silently.
The house smelled of pine and cinnamon, decorated extravagantly as it was every year since Julie had moved in with her daughter Helly. Crystal and gold ornaments hung from the twelve-foot tree in the foyer, nothing like the homemade decorations Dad and I used to hang
